Lowtown, Madripoor - Thursday Morning
Some people might have claimed that Gotham was a den of villainy and crime. Those people never heard about the wonders of the small island state of Madripoor, just south of Singapore. Those people would have, however, probably had more common sense than to book a drunken portal there.
Sadly, none of the boys involved were terribly gifted in common sense.
Particularly not after Bobby had finally talked Warren into trying the maple vodka. It tasted like Canada. Clearly.
It was fortunate that common sense had little to do with the state that Bobby, Tony, and Warren were in when they woke up, because if it had seen any bit of this, it would have sobbed and fled across the Pacific to saner waters.
"S'a foot in my hip," Warren shared, still in a sleepy stupor, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. "S'a foot in both my hips."
“S’a hip in my foot,” Bobby returned helpfully. “...Tony, this isn’t your dorm room, is it? Please tell me it is.” he asked desperately. Because, well. He knew what his room looked like, and Warren’s, so maybe- hold on. Had he iced the door shut?
Tony groaned, slowly pulling his face out of the pillow of rainbow coloured feathers that he may or may not have been snuggling. “Not so loud,” he whispered, looking around.
Well. It was different than he’d expected, to be honest.
“No... did we get a hotel somewhere?” A roach crawled up the wall nearby the bed. “A really, really bad hotel?”
Warren attempted to stretch, and to sit up, and not much of that seemed to be happening, as he was apparently pinned on either side by the owners of the feet.
"Why would we do something stupid like-" Give him a moment. "Like..." Juuust a second. "Do we have any of that vodka left?"
“I think you drank it all,” Bobby said, leaning over to wag an accusing finger in Warren’s face. “After you ate poor Tony’s other hat.”
[[Preplayed with longislandiceme and not_a_parakeet, NFB due to distance!]]
Sadly, none of the boys involved were terribly gifted in common sense.
Particularly not after Bobby had finally talked Warren into trying the maple vodka. It tasted like Canada. Clearly.
It was fortunate that common sense had little to do with the state that Bobby, Tony, and Warren were in when they woke up, because if it had seen any bit of this, it would have sobbed and fled across the Pacific to saner waters.
"S'a foot in my hip," Warren shared, still in a sleepy stupor, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. "S'a foot in both my hips."
“S’a hip in my foot,” Bobby returned helpfully. “...Tony, this isn’t your dorm room, is it? Please tell me it is.” he asked desperately. Because, well. He knew what his room looked like, and Warren’s, so maybe- hold on. Had he iced the door shut?
Tony groaned, slowly pulling his face out of the pillow of rainbow coloured feathers that he may or may not have been snuggling. “Not so loud,” he whispered, looking around.
Well. It was different than he’d expected, to be honest.
“No... did we get a hotel somewhere?” A roach crawled up the wall nearby the bed. “A really, really bad hotel?”
Warren attempted to stretch, and to sit up, and not much of that seemed to be happening, as he was apparently pinned on either side by the owners of the feet.
"Why would we do something stupid like-" Give him a moment. "Like..." Juuust a second. "Do we have any of that vodka left?"
“I think you drank it all,” Bobby said, leaning over to wag an accusing finger in Warren’s face. “After you ate poor Tony’s other hat.”
[[Preplayed with longislandiceme and not_a_parakeet, NFB due to distance!]]